


Return on the Wind

by mphelmsman



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Return, Reunion, Riechenbachfeels, Roof Sex, Sad Ending, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 06:09:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mphelmsman/pseuds/mphelmsman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the meeting in the Restaurant wasn't the first time John had seen Sherlock?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return on the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to those at the Giant Chat of Sumatra for Challenging me. Hope you guys like it!  
> Totally unbeta'd

Sherlock had been tracking John all night. Showing himself to his blogger had not gone well at all. The man had just gone dead white when Sherlock had deliberately stumbled against him on Baker   
Street. Somehow even with a frankly brilliant disguise his Doctor had known Sherlock instantly, then mouthing a few nonsensical words had fled. Sherlock didn’t know where to find him, even asking the homeless network had gotten him nothing. Then he had gotten a simple text. “If you are real you know where you Fell. “

“Oh God”, he whispered. Bart’s…it had to be. Sherlock hailed a cab and told the cabbie he’d triple the fee if they could get there in less than ten minutes.

Eight minutes later his coat streamed behind him as he opened the door to the roof. At wasn’t a calm day, not like the one two years ago when he had confronted his own personal demon, Moriarty. Tonight the wind played with his coat and scarf and he glared with streaming eyes into it. “John!” he called, “Dammit John do not do this.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Sherlock barely heard the quiet tones of his longed for friend. “You left first.”

“I had to…..he would have killed you, killed you all. I had to make you safe.” Sherlock spun around, one hand in his hair, searching for John’s small, compact figure. His heart leapt up to his throat when he saw the man exactly, EXACTLY on the spot from which Sherlock had taken his fall. He knew immediately that it was not the first time John had stood just there, contemplating a fall of his own.

“It was a trick….” Sherlock panted, feeling like he was using his words to hook John back from the ledge, “Just a magic trick.”

“And our friendship? Was that a trick too.” The army doctor spat out bitterly.

“No,” Sherlock breathed and then louder, “NO. John I *had* to make you safe.”

“Am I safe, standing here so many times, AM I SAFE!” John’s voice, as vicious as a wounded animal’s cry, drove Sherlock to his knees.

“Please, John.” Sherlock reached out to him, again so like the last day they had spoken. “I want to fix this.”

John turned to face him, his back to oblivion, “How….how do I even know that you are real? Or that this time you will stay?”

“Come here, please, John. I said once I never begged for anything in my life….but I begged to you and I’m begging now. Please, please. I’m so sorry.”

“You ruined me, Sherlock. I can’t even be friends with anyone now. I’m more alone than when I met you. You kept me all to yourself and when you left……there was nothing of me here to remain.”

Sherlock felt tears drip down his cheeks, “John, John please.” All he could do now was beg, his mind somehow stuck in neutral until the man he knew held his heart touched him so he could breathe again.

They stuck there, balanced on the very edge, until John took one step back towards the black coated figure on the ground still begging in a soft voice. John’s blunt, sensitive fingers touched Sherlock’s cheeks lightly. “I know you can turn these on and off.”

“John…I….please.” Sherlock simply could not get anything else to come out of his mouth. The deductions of how many times John had stood just THERE, how many times he had come so close to losing the only person who mattered, filled his head with a violent, mocking buzz.

“Don’t you have *anything* to say….the man who would outlive God to have the last word.”

Sherlock just shook his head, broken down to muteness with the raw pain flowing between them.

“Sherlock…..I want to understand.” John put his hand over Sherlock’s mouth that had opened with explanation, “But not tonight. Tonight I just need to know that you are real.’ Then before Sherlock could say another word the army Doctor bent and placed his lips over Sherlock’s. The both froze for a moment, “Sherlock”, John sobbed against his mouth, “Please!”

That, John begging him, broke Sherlock out of his stasis. He didn’t know much about kissing so at first he just rubbed his lips slightly against John’s, looking to him for direction. John sigh, half a sob, and pressed them closer, licking and nibbling until by some instinct Sherlock found his mouth opening under the tender assault. Sherlock’s breath hitched as new data of sound, sight and scent dri9fted into him all singing of John, but a small pat on his cheek brought him out of it. “Here.” John said, his steady voice a command, “Stay here….with me.”

Sherlock nodded, relaxing from the hyper-vigilant state he had endured for two years. He watched passively as John took his coat off and then Sherlock’s. Then he gently guided Sherlock down onto the coats. “No questions tonight, for either of us.” John’s voice was stern beyond disobedience, “We are going to take this time, you are going to give it to me, and tomorrow we can see if there is anything left of what used to be.”

Again, caught up in John’s commanding presence Sherlock simply nodded. Whatever John needed was his tonight…and for however long he needed it. Maybe in the morning Sherlock would let him know that nit had been something like this that he’d hoped to come back to but this moment was not for words. It was for touch and taste and scent and feelings that no words could adequately cover. He blinked up at John somehow conveying all of this and with relief he was answered with kisses even deeper than before.

Within moments they were clinging to each other, as if the wind around them would tear them apart if they let it. Sherlock was fumbling but eager, trying to unbutton John’s shirt while never taking his lips off him. John settled him down and stripped their shirts from them. Unmindful of the chill in the air he palmed Sherlock’s chest, “Beautiful.” He breathed, mouthing the skin that his hands had touched.

Sherlock arched up under a sensation he was unfamiliar with but instantly addicted to. He wove his fingers into John’s silvered locks, moaning his appreciation. John took his wrist gently and stretched out to watch the play of muscles in Sherlock’s arms. “Christ, you are lovely.”

“John, you are…..” Sherlock wanted to say so much but John stopped his mouth with kisses and he was lost again. John took the lead in every movement, touching him and mouthing his nipples, down his stomach, until he was nuzzling against Sherlock’s trousers.

“Off.” was the command this time.

“Oh god yes.” Sherlock moaned in response. He flicked his own flies open and reached for John’s who by some mercy let him this time. Sherlock, acting on long deleted or repressed memories, reached in and slowly took John’s cock out of his pants. It was full and thick and Sherlock’s mouth watered to taste it. “May I?” he asked. John nodded and immediately Sherlock flipped his shorter lover onto his back so he could finally taste what he had dreamed of for what felt like forever.

The savor of John’s pre-come made him moan and press his hand into his own groin to stop himself from coming immediately. It was like a distillation of everything Sherlock associated with his John in one taste. He mouthed it, clumsily, and instantly in his mind swore he would learn better. He would learn to be the BEST! John deserved no less. Still his tentative licks and nibbles, earned the sweet praise of profanities flowing from John’s lips. He became bolder, taking John further and further into his mouth until his beloved Doctor was thrusting up into him. Sherlock tried to push himself to take more but he was suddenly pulled up to share the sweet taste with John himself. This time the kiss was messy, and desperate.

John clutched his shoulders and rolled him over, pushing their clothes away enough so that their cock’s lay against one another. Sherlock shouted in surprised ecstasy and John took the sweetness of that from his lips too. “Be real.” John begged, “Dear God, please, BE REAL.”

Sherlock closed his arms around the smaller man, trying to prove by the strength of his arms that he was as real as John needed him to be. Frankly, at this moment, he was not even sure he had been real until and Army Doctor with a limp had met him in the lab many stories below them. Sherlock felt John start to thrust against him and bent his head forward to bit and kiss at the other man’s good shoulder. The mark would stay…..John would see it in the mirror and then Sherlock would be real. Now all there was to them was the slide of skin against skin hands that clutched and may even have bruised in their desperation to be closer. Sherlock felt all se3nsation start to center to where he lay closest to john, the ache mounting as they raced for the climax. “God, God yes John!” he cried, “Be with me.”

“Yes,” he was answered, “Right there. So close.”

Sherlock grabbed the firm globe of John’s ass and held him tightly rutting unashamedly. He could feel the first tightening of orgasm. “Please, now!”

“Yes!” John shouted through clenched teeth and they were right there, as coordinated as they had ever been, their orgasms taking them up, wringing them out and leaving them back on the roof, panting breathlessly to each other. “John, I…I love you. I’ve loved you so long.”

John lifted his head and looked at Sherlock, his blue eyes swimming with tears. He kissed him again, sweetly but with such sadness fear started to fill Sherlock’s bones. John lifted himself up and reached for his shirt. “This didn’t happen, Sherlock. We didn’t meet tonight.” His voice cracking a bit but firm.

“What? I…” Sherlock tried to reach for his lover but was evaded easily.

“I’m engaged.” John said, not meeting Sherlock’s disbelieving gaze, “We are going to dinner tomorrow night.” He nodded to himself, “That will be a good place for you to be alive again to me.”

“John, did you not *hear* me.” Sherlock reached out again and grabbed his arm. “I love you. I came back for YOU.”

John sighed, closing his eyes tight, “I’ve made promises. And, “He raised his eyes finally to Sherlock’s, “I will not break her as you have me.” John stood, leaving Sherlock in his debauched state on the roof.

“Then what was this?” Sherlock yelled, his heart tearing to pieces.

“This was good-bye,” John said, straightening himself as much as he could, “Good-by to all the things that once were and could have been.”

Sherlock hid his face in his knees, trying to block it all out. Then he felt one last soft kiss on the back of his neck and heard one last phrase. “Good-bye, Sherlock.”

And John left him to the night and the wind.

 


End file.
